


When Sight Becomes Art

by TheGoliathBeetle



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Child AU, Dresses, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romance, Sleepovers, canonverse, spamano week 2017
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-08 21:48:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11655390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoliathBeetle/pseuds/TheGoliathBeetle
Summary: “In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest where no-one sees you, but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art.” —RumiA series of unconnected one-shots for Spamano Week 2017.





	1. Shimmer - Dresses (Canonverse)

**Author's Note:**

> Spamano Week 2017 prompts:
> 
> July 30th/Day 1- Dresses (Canonverse)   
> July 31st/Day 2- Sleepover (Child AU)  
> August 1/Day 3- Surprise (Coffee Shop AU)  
> August 2/Day 4- Historical (Human AU)  
> August 3/Day5- Gifts (Cardverse)  
> August 4/Day 6- Sailing (Mertalia)  
> August 5/Day 7- Festival (Any/No AU)  
> August 6/Bonus - Comfort (Any/No AU)
> 
> (The AUs are only suggestions. According to the rules of Spamano Week 2017, you do not need to do the AUs. As such, I am only writing the AUs I am comfortable with, but I am going to write all the prompts.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPAMANO WEEK. You thought I was going to miss that? Pfft. 
> 
> July 30th: Dresses (Canonverse)
> 
> I see this as a pre-relationship fic, or a ‘they’re-not-admitting-they’re-in-a-relationship-yet’ fic.

The sun’s quiet beams gave the dust a new life. It was almost like dated glitter that had lost its shine. It even smelled. Old dust always did. Of smoke and mould and time. The little circular window of Antonio’s attic always reminded Lovino of  _Heidi_. He imagined peeking out to see dramatic Swiss hills and maybe two little girls (one in a wheelchair) playing with sheep. The real view was just of a flat, long road lined with peaceful houses exactly the same as this one. 

Lovino wiped the sweat off his brow with his wrist and stretched, so the knots in his spine went  _crack-crack-crack_. He’d promised to spend his Sunday helping Antonio sort out his boxes. _I want to simplify_ , Antonio had told him.  _There’s a lot of stuff in the attic that I want to look through_. Some of it was trash: centuries’ old clothes or coins that held no emotional value. They’d be shipped off to a museum. Lovino had also found some letters, paintings, and photographs, along with a broken knife from the 1600s that Antonio seemed keen on keeping. 

They worked quietly and efficiently, only speaking when they had something to say. It was hot. They were dusty and tired. Neither was in the mood for conversation. Lovino picked up a military badge from the bottom of a box. He almost threw it in the trash, but then asked, “Antonio, do you want to keep this?” Lovino got no reply, except for rhythmic but audible breathing. He looked over his shoulder. “Antonio?”

Antonio was on his knees, peering into an almost empty wooden box. Dust mingled with sweat on his face. There was a cloth tied around his thumb from earlier, when a piece of broken glass pierced him. 

“Antonio, what’s up?” 

“Lovi, look at this!” Antonio pulled out a long blue dress from inside the box. It was dusty too, and had lost some of its colour, but Lovino could tell it had once been opulent, with long, dreamy folds and pearl buttons. It shimmered in the sunlight. “I bought this for Belgium in 1914. Of course, then the war broke out and I didn’t get around to giving it to her…” Antonio’s eyes were wistful. Lovino watched the way he touched the dress, almost like it was a missed opportunity. “You know,” he said, “I’ve always wanted to wear a dress.”

At Lovino’s unblinking stare, Antonio seemed to realise what he’d admitted. He dropped the dress back into the box and looked away. Antonio jumped to his feet, hit his head on the low ceiling and cussed, receding to the back of the attic to look at more boxes.

“I don’t know why you’re so embarrassed.” Lovino knew about embarrassment. He was always turning scarlet for the slightest of reasons, always getting flustered, always feeling humiliated. This had ebbed over the years, but the emotions had never quite left him. “It’s just a piece of cloth. If you want to wear it, you should.”

He heard Antonio mumble.

“What?”

“I said,” Antonio dropped three large books onto the floor. A dust cloud rose from where they fell. “That the dress won’t even fit me. I bought it with Belgium’s physique in mind.” 

“So get yourself a new one, idiot. We can go tonight if you want. If you don’t want to go alone, that is.” Really, it was 2017. There was no need for Antonio to be so ashamed about it. Still, the biases of the past could be difficult to combat, even for a once-fierce warrior like Antonio. 

“Let it be, Lovi. It’s not important. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“That’s stupid! You should just–”

“Lovino.” His tone flashed with warning. “Let it be, okay?”

“Fine.” Lovino picked up the books Antonio had thrown and put them into the box titled  _Trash (For Museums)._

* * *

“You want me to what?”

Lovino threw the dress out onto the table, where tiny dust bunnies fell off its sleeves. Feliciano touched the fabric with two fingers. The twins were both good at design (they were Italy, after all). Feli, however, had a keener eye for vintage clothes, and had a greater appreciation for the materials that went into them. 

“I want you to alter this dress. Make it a little looser at the sides, here.” He pointed at the dress’s curves. 

“Where did you even get this?”

“Classified.” Lovino had stolen it from Antonio’s attic when the other man had gone down to make lemonade. It didn’t feel right to tell Feli about it. This was Antonio’s private dream.

Feliciano smiled curiously. “Okay. Well, I’m not sure how much I can loosen it. What I can do is replicate it. I know a guy who can get me the same sort of silk. You’ll have to give me a size reference though, Lovi.”

Two pairs of amber eyes stared each other down.

“Maybe a size larger than me.” Lovino ran a hand through his hair, careful not to touch his curl. Feliciano’s gaze shifted from his face to his waist, and then to his hips. 

“All right. I’ll measure you and make it a few inches larger on all sides. Sounds good?”

* * *

The replica dress took two weeks to make. Sewing it was the easy part. Feli had spent most of the fortnight finding the right silk and pearls. Antonio hadn’t asked about the missing original. Lovino was sure he hadn’t even noticed. How would he react? Would he be furious? 

Lovino just wanted him to live a dream. He was willing to fight off Antonio’s shame and self-loathing if he had to. He’d do this right, too. He was going to make the dress irresistible. That was why he put it into a hand-made box covered in white satin and mother-of-pearl embellishments. 

His stomach kept swirling in the flight to Madrid. Would Antonio like it?  _Would Antonio like it?_

* * *

“Lovi!” Antonio grinned as widely as ever, going in for one of his classic big hugs. “This is such a surprise. Oooh, what’s in that bag? Did you get me a present?” He waggled his eyebrows at his own joke, but Lovino didn’t find it so funny.

“Yeah, I did, actually.”

“You–oh, really?” Antonio, if possible, smiled even more. Lovino loved making him smile. It was like watching a rose bloom. “That’s so sweet! Thank you!” Without thinking, Antonio kissed his cheeks, leaving fiery red blushes where his lips touched. “Come on in, I want to open it!”

They barely made it into the living room before Antonio  grabbed the paper bag from him and pulled the large box out. Ever the hyperactive puppy. “That’s beautiful!” Antonio touched the box. “Oh my, Lovi, this box alone must have cost you a fortune.” 

Lovino said nothing as Antonio opened it. He wanted to experience the moment his expression would change. When he saw the dress, however, Antonio just froze. 

“I know you told me to drop it,” Lovino quickly explained, “but I don’t think it’s a shameful dream. If you want to wear a dress, you should. If it makes you happy, you should. And if it makes you happy–” he broke off and picked up, “I would like to make you happy. Because…well…” the blush had spread up to his ears and down to his neck. “You make me happy.”

Antonio’s eyes were shimmering like the dress did in sunlight. “I don’t want to look ugly.” 

Despite being taller and wider, Antonio felt like bones in Lovino’s arms. “You could never look ugly.” Antonio’s tears soaked into his shirt. By the time he stopped crying, the damp spot had become rather large. 

“Sorry,” Antonio said thickly, wandering off to the kitchen to find tissue. 

“Don’t be stupid.” 

* * *

Antonio’s eyes confronted the mirror. The replica dress fit almost perfectly, except for the length of the sleeves. The skirt cascaded to the floor, looking the way laughter sounded. Lovino only wished he’d thought to buy matching shoes. Antonio’s bare feet were hidden behind the fabric. The neckline, however, exposed his collarbone. At least Lovino had come prepared for that. 

“I look weird.”

“No you don’t.”

“I look like a man wearing a woman’s outfit.”

Lovino slapped his shoulder. “You look like hot shit.” The nuances of Antonio’s expression were starting to change. “Don’t start crying again. Please, you look really good.”

Antonio was looking at his lips. “Are you sure? Are you sure I look…” His voice dipped. “Pretty?”

From his pocket, Lovino pulled out a silver and pearl necklace. It looked so delicate; it reminded Lovino of rain. Coming behind Antonio, he draped the necklace over his collarbone and clipped it shut. He could hear Antonio breathing, soft, short, tense. 

Lovino whispered in his ear.

“You’re the prettiest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming back from under the ground with A VERY ROMANTIC FIC.


	2. Kitchen Mission - Sleepover (Child AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spamano week, day 2! Also, what you’re reading is based on real events. Also they’re like 11 years old. 
> 
> Prompt: Sleepover (Child AU).

“Lovi.” Antonio shook his shoulder. He had to be quiet. Not only was it past one am, but Lovino’s house was currently full. His parents, his grandfather, his cousins and his uncle and aunt were all staying over. In hindsight it had been a terrible idea to schedule a sleepover tonight, but  _theirs had been preplanned_. Not his fault that Lovino’s whole extended family decided to drop in virtually impromptu. “Loviii,” Antonio hissed.

“What? I’m awake,” Lovino slurred. The dark silhouette of his hand rubbed his eyes. Lovino raised his head. They were staring at each other, though they didn’t know it. The only light came from the moon, shining through the window outside. 

Both of them cast their poor night-vision to the floor, where Lovino’s cousins and Feli were snoring away in sleeping bags. Lovino had kicked Feli off the bed so that Antonio could be comfortable. Lovino was so thoughtful! 

“I’m hungry.” 

Lovino yawned. “So am I.”

“What do we do?”

The both of them sat up, Antonio rubbing water out of his eyes. Lovino felt around for his phone. The bright light from the Sony gave Antonio an instant headache. He groaned and ducked underneath the blankets.

“Sorry,” Lovino hissed, lowering the brightness. Though it wasn’t a fancy iPhone, Lovino adored his mobile. Antonio didn’t have one yet, but Lovino would sometimes let him play games on his. “It’s almost two. What are you hungry for?”

“I dunno,” said Antonio, sitting up again. “Leftovers from dinner?” Though it was blind hope. There were no leftovers from dinner. The tragedy of having so many guests over. 

“No,” Lovino whispered, predictably. They would have to hunt in the kitchen. Except, that journey was riddled with dangerous obstacles. Lovino’s house was a small, two-bedroom apartment. In the living room, the sofa-bed was occupied by his aunt and uncle. The second sofa was for his grandfather. Both the aunt and uncle had sharp ears, a skill honed from having three boisterous children who always got into fights. Lovino’s grandfather kept waking up to use the restroom. If any of them caught the thieves in the kitchen, they’d get shouted at. “We’ll have to plan this.” Lovino’s voice was hard and full of purpose. 

Antonio wasn’t sure what kind of planning they’d need. All they’d have to do was creep out of the bedroom, past the living room and into the kitchen, where they’d find a snack. Simple, right?

Apparently Lovino had other ideas. He caught Antonio by the shoulder to get his attention. “You have to be quiet. Really, really quiet. My family doesn’t believe in midnight snacks. I’ll get grounded.”

“Carry your phone with you,” Antonio advised. “We’ll need light and we can’t risk turning on the kitchen light.”

“Good thinking.” Lovino slipped his Sony into his pyjama pocket. His plan, as he explained, was this: both would sneak to the kitchen, but Antonio would keep watch. If he was caught, he’d say he got lost on the way to the restroom. (Antonio didn’t think this was plausible, since the restroom was right outside Lovino’s bedroom. But whatever…Lovino clearly wanted to be military about this, and hell, it was two in the morning on a sleepover; this was going to be fun.)  Antonio would be the fall guy, as he was just a guest and could pull-off being cute. Lovino would hide in the shadows until the coast was clear. 

With this plan in place, they stepped off the bed and onto the cold floor. Lovino didn’t dare shine his phone to light the way. It might wake up the cousins, and they were a trio of horrors. They’d definitely tattle. 

There were risks to this, of course.

Antonio’s little toe collided with the dressing table, but before he could yowl on instinct, Lovino clamped his mouth shut with a hand. Antonio was clutching his foot and leaning dangerously over the sleeping bags. If he fell on their faces…Feli wouldn’t tattle, at least (unlike the cousins), but he would start to cry, and that was worse. Lovino was gripping his shoulder to keep him steady. 

“You okay?” he whispered.

The pain was subsiding, so Antonio nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

Opening the door was its own challenge. It creaked. They had to open it one inch at a time. They slipped through a sliver of space and out. They were passed the first hurdle. Now for the hard part.

The kitchen was straight across the living room, across the aunt and the uncle and the grandpa. Lovino clutched Antonio’s wrist. They made the journey on tip-toe. Grandpa Romulus’ snores were great rumbles of air, reassuring in their own way: he wasn’t likely to wake up soon. The aunt kept tossing and turning in her sleep. Every time she did, Antonio’s heart leapt to his tongue. 

When they made it into the kitchen, it felt like they’d reached Mount Doom at last. Lovino took out his phone to shine torchlight around the platform. Antonio stayed by the door, making sure the three adults in the room outside stayed asleep. 

There wasn’t much by way of snacks. Lovino was shuffling around cabinets and drawers trying to find a packet of chips or chocolate. He switched off the torchlight and pocketed his phone. Golden light from the fridge glowed on the kitchen, and on them, like something holy. Lovino pulled out an unopened bread packet. “This is all I can find.”

Antonio’s stomach rumbled. “No problem.”

Lovino took out a jam jar, and found a butter knife and plate. It was time to leave.

Sharing the bounty between them, they crept back to the bedroom in what was a thankfully uneventful trip. But where to sit? Lovino’s mother hated them eating on the bed, and neither of them wanted to risk her temper in the morning. Antonio pulled Lovino’s sleeve. “We could sit in the corner.”

‘The Corner’ was a space right underneath the window, trapped between the closet and the bookshelf. It only had room for two, and was, relatively speaking, the most secluded part of the bedroom. Even if the cousins awoke, they wouldn’t immediately notice anyone sitting there.

Careful to be quiet, the two of them crouched to the corner, sitting crosslegged with the bread and jam and plate between them. “This is for breakfast tomorrow,” Lovino admitted as he opened the new bread packet. Antonio snickered. 

“This is the most fun I’ve ever had with you!”

Lovino was quiet, but Antonio knew he was blushing. Using the light of the phone, they slathered jam onto cold bread slices. It tasted better because it was stolen. 

“Do you remember that time Gilbert dared Francis to put a lizard in his mouth?”

“Should we be talking right now?”

“And,” Antonio giggled, “you and I went looking for a lizard? Man that was funny.”

“Funny? We found a snake. We almost died.”

“I told you, the snake wasn’t venomous!” 

“Yes it was!” Lovino hissed, reminded Antonio very much of the snake in question. 

“No!”

“Yes!” 

They had a quick, whispered argument before Lovino called him a bastard (a new word he’d picked up and was using just to look cool). Antonio clutched his side in mostly silent but very real laughter. He and Lovino could laugh about pretty much anything. That was why sleepovers with Lovino were so much fun. (And this had to be the most exciting one of all.)

“Crap.” Lovino picked up the last slice. Where had the night gone? Where had the bread gone? Who knew? “I told you, this was for breakfast tomorrow. Now what?”

Antonio shrugged. “We can split that slice.”

What else could they do about it now? Lovino tore the slice in half and put jam on both pieces. They knocked the bread together like they were toasting (”Toasting, geddit?” Antonio giggled), and ate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is an almost 100% real account of a sleepover I had with my best friend. Except that we must have been 16 or 17, not 11. Apart for some details: the cousins, the grandpa (they’ve either been added in or embellished for comedic effect), it’s all true. We had a crazy mission to the kitchen, to eat bread and jam. We sat in a corner and finished a whole loaf while chatting in whispers. It is the most wonderful memory. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment :)


	3. Glow/Glare - Surprise (Coffee Shop AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Spinyfruit for your help with this fic <3 
> 
> Day 3: Surprise (Coffee Shop AU)

‘Glow’ was the warmest word. Glow released a perfume of connotation in the air; at once soft, bright, sweet, loving, cosy. ‘Glow’ sounded like the smell of coffee on a rainy night. And here, in this large coffee shop, with its windows framed with brown curtains, the numbers of customers steadily depleted, each returning to the glow of the lamp lights in their dorm rooms. Yellow lights glowed in Antonio’s vision as he yawned, blinking the wetness of sleep from his eyes.

The computer screen didn’t glow. It glared. Harsh whiteness and sharp black lettering. This essay was due tomorrow at eight. He hadn’t slept in two days. The other patrons of the cafe looked equally tired. It was almost midnight, and those who hung around were all stressed university students with untidy hair and fading makeup. Their laptops treated them cruelly too.

His cup was empty. Antonio stood and stretched. His knuckles cracked. Grabbing his wallet from the table, he went to the counter. He had this idea, born perhaps out of anxiety, that someone would steal his laptop if he wasn’t looking. It was why he kept glancing over his shoulder while giving his order to the barista. 

The boy behind his table had brown hair with a tint of auburn. It fell over his eyes as he worked, typing furiously at his laptop. A single curl went awry, shooting out at an almost forty-five degree angle. 

“T-thanks,” Antonio dropped change on the counter, grabbing his cappuccino with a hand shaking with sudden nerves. Hot milk spilled on his foot but he ignored the momentary pain. “Lovino Vargas?” he approached the boy. Why was his voice so high when he spoke? “Is that you?”

The boy’s gold eyes were unmistakable. He regarded Antonio with quiet curiosity, until his expression changed to something more unguarded. “Hey, you’re–”

“Antonio! From elementary school! Remember me?”

“How could I not?” Lovino shifted his legs from the seat across him so Antonio could sit. “We ate lunch together every day.”

“Yeah, tomatoes. This is such a surprise! What are you doing here? Do you  _go_  here?” Antonio was far, far away from home, and often a little lonely. It was almost too surreal to run into an old friend at the university’s favourite cafe. 

“Obviously?” Lovino rubbed his eyes. Heavy bags had fallen on his face. Three empty espresso cups were scattered across his table. Lovino was faring worse than Antonio was. “I study Chem.”

Antonio shuddered. “I cannot deal with chem. Never could. I’m an International Relations major.”

Lovino snorted. “As if that’s any better.”

“Good point.” Antonio bounced a knee. It was a habit he’d acquired since joining university. “Can we…um, sit together and work?” He gestured to his table. “I’ve got an essay to finish too, and I’m scared I might fall asleep if I sit alone any longer.” 

Lovino seemed about to say something, but when he opened his mouth, he just yawned, and quickly covered himself with a hand. “Yeah, same. Haven’t slept in four days.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish.”

* * *

The digital clock on the coffee shop’s wall didn’t fit with its rustic aesthetics, but Antonio kept glancing at it anyway, partially because nobody used clocks anymore, and he’d always liked them. They’d been working for an hour, although Antonio kept pulling his gaze away from the laptop to stare at Lovino. He was handsome, like bare-branched trees were handsome, standing sturdy but all alone in the middle of winter. Lovino’s jawline had sharpened over the years, making his features elongated and elegant. 

Stealing glances was how Antonio noticed his old friend slow down. He was typing slower. Blinking more. Exhaustion fell from his eyes. Lovino kept wiping the wetness away. 

“Why don’t you nap for a bit?”

Lovino jerked out of a reverie. “Can’t. Have to finish this.”

“Just a bit. Half an hour? I’ll wake you!” 

Narrowed eyes watched Antonio for a moment. “Don’t let me sleep a minute more. If I don’t wake up, throw water on me. I  _have_  to finish this tonight.” 

Antonio laughed. “Okay, okay.” Before him, Lovino shut the laptop and lifted it off his lap to put on the table. He tucked his socked feet under him and curled up like a cat on the sofa chair. His soft little breaths left Antonio smiling as he turned back to his own essay. 

Working with Lovino asleep in front of him was strangely meditative. Antonio felt more aware of the sentences he was writing, more aware of the time that dripped by, and certainly more aware of Lovino. He felt a new, wonderful protectiveness that he’d not before. Lovino looked too precious and vulnerable. If the situation was different, Antonio would have relished in tucking him into bed, dimming the lights, making sure he was getting all the rest he needed.

Still, the digital clock swooped them along. By the half-hour mark, Antonio had finished a crucial section of his essay. He set it aside and shook Lovino’s shoulder. “Hi, wake up.” Antonio grinned when Lovino frowned in his sleep. “Loooovi, wake up. C’mon, you have to finish your chem essay.”

“Ughhhhhhhhhh.” He sat up, eyes coasting over to his laptop. “I need another espresso.”

“I’ll get you one, no problem!” 

“No, you’ll mess it up.”

Antonio, who was already on his feet, raised an eyebrow. “How hard is it to order espresso, Lovino?”

“It has to be done  _right_.” The snide in his tone hit some sort of funny bone in Antonio’s body. Or maybe he was just tired. He laughed, and couldn’t stop laughing. Sleepy uni students were giving him dirty looks, and Lovino himself just stood with lips slightly parted and eyes full of understanding. 

When Antonio finally calmed down, he just nodded. “I’ll get you a coffee too,” Lovino mused. “You’re obviously as tired as I am.” 

The laughter had left, making Antonio feel suddenly glum. “Yeah, thanks. Cappuccino please.” He’d already finished his second one. 

* * *

Something…was burning. Behind his eyes. Things had stopped glowing, as they had in the early late-night. Headaches were several experiences mixed into one. They didn’t just sear the skull; they were also weights on the brain. Antonio had a vivid image of two rocks crushing his cranium until the bone gave way. 

“You’ve become quiet.” Lovino didn’t look up from his laptop. “In school you were always the talkative one.” 

“Still talkative,” Antonio replied. He was grinding his teeth. He’d regret it later when he needed to see a dentist. 

“Then talk. Keep me awake.”

The keyboard was a drumbeat and the yellow lights were explosions. Headaches left no room for moderation. “Well…” Antonio murmured distractedly. “Are you in touch with anyone from school?”

“Not really, no. You?”

“Gilbert and Francis. They’re halfway across the country now, though.”

“Your best friends?” Lovino sounded impressed. “Still?”

Despite the pain, Antonio grinned. To maintain a friendship that lasted years: this was a matter of pride for the trio. “Yep.”

Silence again. It was obviously bothering Lovino. “Remember Feliciano? My brother? He’s training to be a chef now.”

Actually, Antonio had forgotten about Feli, but he suddenly remembered a cheerful, slightly ditzy boy in a grade before theirs. “That’s great! Italian?”

Lovino snorted. “Don’t be racist. No, French, actually.”

Antonio blinked. “Oh-h…”

When Lovino laughed, his face seemed to glow too. “I’m only kidding. Nah, he’s just in first year so he’s not specialising yet.” 

Nausea roiled in his stomach. Antonio swallowed his own saliva. The headache pounded on. Lovino was watching him when he pressed fingers into his temple. 

“Have you eaten?”

“Hmm?” Antonio blinked back the pain and looked at him.

“You always used to get headaches when you skipped meals. I remember.” 

Antonio’s smile was tired and barely-there. “I think I’ve had too many coffees, too little sleep, and not enough food to cushion it all.” 

Lovino raised his empty espresso cup to Antonio. “Join the fucking club.” He pointed at the counter. “Eat something.” 

“I’ll get us some sandwiches.” 

* * *

The cafe was open twenty-four hours, so the sunrise had no meaning on its doors. They remained as open as the sky for any stressed-out university student who had too much to do and not enough time. Dawn, and stars like fairy lights;  the clouds were purple, their coffee cups were cold.

Antonio’s eyes opened first. He was hugging his laptop, his neck in an odd angle on the sofa chair. Lovino was curled up like before, still breathing softly. A trail of drool dampened Antonio’s chin. He wiped himself on his shirt. He watched Lovino, pleasantly dazed, not thinking about anything at all.

At what point had they finished their essays? Had what point had they nodded off? Antonio opened his laptop, too tired to care about details. The essay waited for him, not proofread, but at least complete. It was too much to read now, twenty minutes before the submission deadline. He’d simply have to trust his past self to have not made any embarrassing mistakes.

Everything would be fine.

By the time he’d submitted the paper online, Lovino had begun to stir. He stretched out like a cat, his eyes finding Antonio’s. For a moment, Lovino looked stunned to see him. “I forgot for a moment,” he explained when he sat up. “That we went to the same uni.”

“It sure is a small world.” Antonio was shutting his computer down. “Good thing it’s the weekend, right?”

Lovino’s gaze drifted towards the window, where the sun was slowly warming the sky to a watery blue. “Yeah.” He sounded so far away…he sounded the same way Antonio felt sometimes. 

“Do you think we can exchange numbers?” Antonio smiled a little. “Sorry if that sounds weird. But…I figured it’d be nice to have a friend to call…you know, in case of emergencies or something.”

“Um, yeah? You didn’t need to recite a speech.” Lovino pulled out his phone. “Gimme yours and I’ll text you.” 

A text dinged on Antonio’s phone.

“We should hang out sometime.” Lovino was packing his laptop away. “I mean, if we can keep each other awake when we’re that tired, we’d probably get on really well if we were actually energised. But then,” he was standing over Antonio and smirking down at him. Colour and life were returning to his cheeks. Lovino always used to blush so much. “We always had a good time together.”

Antonio couldn’t stop beaming like an idiot. “We did! And yes, that’d be great!” With more force than necessary, Antonio shoved his laptop into his bag. “D’you want to get some coffee?”

“Fuck no, I’m sick of coffee.” Lovino waited for Antonio to finish packing. With his haversack dangling from one shoulder, and the sun making his profile glow, he looked like a painting. “But we can go get some breakfast.”

They left the coffee shop together, sleepy, but not quite as  _tired_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept struggling to write this, and struggling to write this, but before I knew it, I’d finished. Also, I think I’ve interpreted this prompt a little freely? But basically the surprise is that they ran into each other after years lol.


	4. Silent Night - Historical (Human AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That I’ve had a hard day is just a contributing factor to the angst in this one-shot.The truth is, I’ve just read a lot about the Spanish Civil War by this point.
> 
> Day 4: Historical (Human AU)
> 
> Warnings: mentioned character death of minor characters.

Rain was seldom an alternative to gunfire. In Antonio’s experience, it was usually just a blanket; one sound over another. Night had been swallowed up by the massive black clouds. They thundered, Antonio shivered. Just another evening in the theatre of war. He wondered why they called it that. A theatre. As though it was some grand performance for an audience’s entertainment. 

He and a comrade had set out on his company’s orders to find a structure, any structure, in this case, an abandoned shed made from stone and wood. These were often good for food, shelter, or even make-shift infirmaries, but usually one could find supplies like nails and iron or once even grain *****. Antonio and his comrade had been discovered by a Fascist sentry before they could get close to the shed. In the crossfire, the comrade was killed and Antonio had escaped to the woods. 

He’d returned after dark, when the rain made him hard to spot, and broke into the shed, which was empty and mercifully dry. If he could wait the night here, he’d probably survive. Unless the cold or the hunger killed him first. Antonio had no food and no way to find any in this weather. He was soaked and shivering, sitting on the floor with his chin to his knees. On the bright side, at least, he felt a lot cleaner than he had in the last month. 

The shed door opened with a loud creak. Antonio felt a scream brewing at the back of his throat, but the soldier in him told him to shut up. He went for his rifle instead. It wasn’t the best: a German Mauser 1869. A little over forty years old. The Republicans had few supplies, and those they had were antiquated. But he could still fire a close-range shot. 

The man who entered was swaying on his feet, which made Antonio pause. Mercy. It was a habit he was trying to lose. The intruder seemed not to have noticed Antonio, sitting in the dark, because he staggered deeper into the shed and slumped against a wall. Antonio could smell mud, and blood. 

Was he–was the comrade alive? He couldn’t be! He’d been shot through the chest. But was there a possibility that this man was on Antonio’s side? Perhaps the company had sent someone to look for them. 

Antonio heard shuffling, and a moment later, the man had lit a cigarette. The small flame illuminated his face. Antonio did not recognise it. The light, unfortunately, blew his cover.

“ _Cazzo_!” The man jumped for his rifle, dropping the cigarette in the process, but Antonio reacted first, on his feet and pointing his Mauser in the intruder’s face. 

“Drop the weapon,” Antonio ordered in Spanish. “Do you understand me? Fascist bastard, drop your weapon.”

The intruder, who was obviously Italian, obviously a Nationalist, and obviously an enemy, was also obviously injured. His movements were sluggish and clumsy. Still sitting, he set his rifle down carelessly, and pushed it aside. 

“You understand Spanish.”

“Of course I fucking do,” the Italian retorted. “Living in this shithole country for god knows how long now! How could I not?” 

“You’re fluent,” Antonio mused again. “Are you a translator?”

The man was silent. 

“So you are.” 

“I dropped my last cigarette because of you.” They were only silhouettes to each other. The night was too dark, too rainy. Antonio’s eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, and his hearing had sharpened over the course of the war. 

Why was he doing this? Why wasn’t he just making the kill? Antonio lowered his rifle and pulled out from his coat pocket a tinder-lighter. ***** It had a small candle fixed to it. From the tiny flame, he could see the Italian’s features. A sharp jaw, slating nose, intense, angry eyes. And youth. The Fascist was just a boy. “How…how  _old_ are you?” Antonio moved the candle so he could see the rest of his body. Something dark and sticky oozed out of his shirt. Someone had shot him. 

“None of your fucking business.” The Italian watched his tinder-lighter with a kind of fury mixed with envy. “Find my cigarette, asshole.” 

“No need to get abusive,” Antonio said curtly. For emphasis, he held the barrel of his rifle tighter. He understood, though. Cigarettes were  rare and valuable. A luxury. There was always a demand for them. 

He found the cigarette on the floor by his feet. Antonio ignited it with the tinder-lighter and took a long, slow, greedy drag. Watching this, the Italian moved to get up, swearing loudly in his own language. “ _Che palle_!  _Stronzo_! Give it here!” 

“If you move so much, you’ll aggravate your injury.” 

“FUCK you.”

Antonio picked up the Fascist’s rifle, just to be safe, and walked off with it, leaving it on the other end of the shed. The Italian screamed obscenities the whole time, but didn’t seem capable of actually doing anything.

“Shut up!” Antonio turned and barked. “Do you want to make a deal with me, or should I just kill you now?”

The Italian spat. “I don’t make deals with Republicans.”

“You don’t really have much of a choice here.” Antonio was looking at the boy’s injury. “I’m not a doctor but I know a few tricks to stop the bleeding. I have some first-aid with me, too. I can stitch it.”

The candle was melting fast. Antonio dearly wanted to preserve it. Candles were hard to come by these days. The Italian was watching him, hard eyes giving away nothing. “And what do you want in return?”

“I don’t know. What do you have?” 

“Food.” 

Antonio lowered the tinder-lighter. 

“I-I have food.” The Italian shifted and cringed from the pain. “It’s not much…some biscuits I scrounged around for. I can share it with you.” 

“Fine.” Antonio went back over to him and gave him the tinder-lighter. He kept the cigarette, though. “Hold this and hold still.” Patting his coat pockets for needle and thread, he asked, “What’s your name?” 

“Why should I tell you?”

“We’ll be stuck here a while, judging from this rain.” 

The boy took almost a minute to answer. “Lovino.” He spoke the word out like he was admitting a deep vulnerability. “Lovino Vargas.” 

“My name is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. I’m twenty-one.” He was looking at Lovino with almost eager curiosity.

“I’m eighteen.” Lovino looked away. 

“Oh. Older than I expected.”

“What did you expect, bastard?”

“Sixteen. Fifteen. You have young eyes.” Antonio unbuttoned the man’s shirt and handed him a rolled-up kerchief. “Bite on this.” 

It was always excruciating to stitch someone up. The patient was trying not to scream and run, and Antonio was trying not to burst into tears. He worked very hard to be tough in the face of a problem, but war was scary, and pain was evil, and he didn’t want to cause anyone pain.

Lovino held still like a rock, making not a sound. He would wince and flinch, but at least he didn’t thrash. 

“Lucky it was just a graze,” Antonio said after it was all over, just to lighten the mood. He wiped his brow and sat back on his legs, waiting for Lovino to collect his wits. “Who shot you?”

“T-there’s a,” Lovino replied breathlessly after taking the kerchief out of his mouth, “a battle going on outside. Or there was.” 

“Are you a deserter, then?”

“I’m not a coward,” Lovino snarled once more. “We were ordered to retreat because of the rain. I was separated from my company.”  

Antonio put his palm out. “You said you would share food.” 

With a hand trembling from the pain and shock, Lovino pulled out a packet of biscuits from his coat pocket. There were only six. He split them evenly between the two. Antonio blew out the candle, which had fallen to half its height, and put the tinder lighter back in his pocket.  

Both ate slowly because food lasted longer that way, and the stomach could be tricked into thinking it wasn’t really hungry. Antonio, wanting to glean as much as he could from this unlikely encounter, ventured, “So…you said you’re a translator?”

“You assumed,” Lovino replied in a clipped tone. 

“You speak Spanish beautifully.” Antonio urged him on with an added, “Me? I’m just a simple soldier.”

“Oh, bullshit. You’re not a medic but you fixed me up just fine.” 

“I just have battlefield experience.”

“No kidding. You’re a doctor.”

Antonio was silent, only taking drags from the stolen cigarette. Before the war…”I was a medical student. Before the war.” His tone gained an edge. “A war that  _you_ started _.”_

 _“_ Yes, I personally came to Spain with the singleminded goal of plunging the whole country into civil war.” Lovino scoffed. “Bastard. Don’t you think I have better things to do? It’s not my business if the men on top want to fight. I’m just a soldier here. No-one will even remember me when I die in Spain.” Words came tumbling out of him now, his tone rather bland, matter-of-fact, but stemming from a place of real anger and despair. “My grandfather died alone while my brother Feliciano and I were at war. Did we get to bury him? Shit no. Feliciano took a bullet to the back of the head in Barcelona. Did I mourn? Shit no. You think this is all about you, and  _your_  tragedies? Get out of here. It’s bigger than you, it’s bigger than me, it’s bigger than any of us.”

“You fight for Fascists who sent you and your brother off to die in a strange land.”

“The Fascists didn’t kill my brother,” Lovino sneered. “Republicans did.”

“The Fascists killed mine.”

“Then we’re square.” 

They lapsed into uneasy silence, until Lovino broke it once more. “I don’t think us minor players have much choice in the events that happen around us.” 

Antonio sat back against the wall with Lovino, to get more comfortable. He had a point. They were born and raised in different narratives. Those narratives were larger than them. They could gripe and complain all they wanted, but the overarching story that was history never did change. 

Could small players affect change, though? In small ways? After all, Antonio could have killed Lovino on sight. He didn’t. Didn’t that somehow…defy the narrative? 

Lovino pulled out a water bottle from where it dangled on his belt. Antonio wanted to gasp. Fascist water bottles were a prized commodity, far better than their Republican counterparts.

“Sip?” to Antonio’s surprise, Lovino was offering him first.

Antonio took the cigarette out of his mouth and gave it back to Lovino. A truce, of sorts.

They didn’t talk much. Antonio had a feeling that if they did–if he actually got to know the other man, he wouldn’t be able to return to the violence tomorrow. On the other side were a bunch of boys dying for madmen they had no choice but to fight for. He knew how party memberships worked in places like Italy and Germany. He knew that membership kept families safe from the state. It wasn’t much different here, where the group you belonged to outlined your loyalty and your humanity for all the world to see. These were the rules of the story, after all.

Antonio didn’t know what came first: sleep or sunshine. But suddenly it was morning, the sky was clear, and there was a cough in his throat from sitting in soaking clothes. The moment of peace gave way to instant panic: he’d dropped his guard around the enemy, now surely Lovino Vargas had gone to get reinforcements, he was going to be killed–

But Lovino was sitting across the room. He’d moved during the course of the night, his eyes vacant. He stared at the floor. By morning Antonio noticed how the mud on his boots was the same colour of his hair, how scratched up and banged up and war-worn he was. Antonio knew he looked no different. 

“Thanks for yesterday,” Lovino muttered in a monotone, not meeting Antonio’s eyes. “For the stitches, I mean.”

“Uh…it really was no problem.”

“Though fuck you, because I wasted my last match on that cigarette, which you finished most of.” 

Impulse was stupid, and Antonio was stupider. He dug into his coat and pulled out the tinder-lighter. “You can keep this, if you want.” 

They watched each other from across the floor. “Why didn’t you just shoot me?” 

Antonio swallowed. “I don’t know.”

Lovino got to his feet, slowly, frowning in pain. He walked over to Antonio and took the tinder-lighter. In return, he placed the Fascist water bottle in Antonio’s hands. “You should have just killed me.” 

“Why?” 

Lovino moved next to the rifles that were just out of Antonio’s reach. 

Antonio widened his eyes, a part of him shocked,  _hurt_ at the betrayal. Enemies did what enemies had to do.

But Lovino only picked up his rifle and swung it on his shoulder. “Because now we might meet on the battlefield again, and I’ll have to kill you.” He blinked at Antonio. “And I don’t want to kill you.” 

With that he was gone, out of the shed and into the sunshine, returning both of them to their own stories, to the narratives that would kill them before the war was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, they both die eventually, because this is war, and war is cruel. Thanks for reading! 
> 
> *I don’t remember where I read it (I think it was in Homage to Catalonia) but I know for a fact that structures and buildings were valuable for shelter and resources.
> 
> *tinder-lighters are sort of old-fashioned lighters. They’re a little complicated, actually, but there are YouTube videos on how to use them. According to Homage to Catalonia, most, if not all, Republican soldiers had them.


	5. Big Boy - Gifts (Human AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We apologise for the delay. Regularly scheduled spamano week programming will resume immediately. 
> 
> (Or, in other words, here’s the slightly late fic for day 5: Gifts!)

The days leading up to Antonio’s birthday did not go as smoothly as Lovino hoped. In hindsight, it was foolish of him to expect anything restful. He’d never owned a dog before, only several cats (a creature Antonio remained consistently and stubbornly allergic to), so really, Lovino had no idea what he was doing.

* * *

The creature sitting beside him on the car shed a lot of fur. With every minute, more white threads littered the carseat, as though the dog was a giant, shaggy salt-shaker. He’d rescued the big boy from the pound. No-one wanted to take him, and those who did, often returned him for his ‘attitude’, which Lovino found morally reprehensible. A pet was like a child. You couldn’t just give it up because you didn’t like its behaviour. 

The dog was panting hard and fast, like a train engine– _ha-ha-ha-ha_ –Lovino figured it was a stress reaction. His cats would always get anxious in the car too. Something about the ground moving underneath them threw them off. Whenever he could, he petted the dog’s large chest.

“You’re Antonio’s dog,” Lovino told him in his most soothing pet-voice. “Antonio’s a bit like a puppy himself, I’m sure you two will get along. He’s not home this week. Work trip. But he gets back on Saturday, which is also his birthday, and he’s always wanted a dog, so I figured, why not surprise him?”

When the car stopped in traffic, children from other vehicles would peer out of their windows and squeal. Lovino found himself smiling awkwardly at a little girl and her father as they waved at his new dog. 

“Already a celebrity? Good for you, big boy. Say,” Lovino glanced at the panting dog, who shifted nervously in the front seat, “what should we name you?” 

The dog turned his huge, furry head away from Lovino.

“We’re stuck with each other for a week, so I do have to name you. The pound people said you didn’t have a name.” Lovino drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “Until I think of something, I’ll just call you Big Boy. Is that okay? Of course it’s okay, because you’re a big boy.”

* * *

“I told you, you should have bought a puppy. Easier to train.” Gilbert’s tone was so exasperated, Lovino practically  _see_  him rolling his eyes, even through the damn phone. 

“Don’t lecture me, give me advice!” Lovino snarled, putting a hand on his hip as he watched the huge white dog dig his paws happily into his and Antonio’s shared bed, his claws ripping out the bedding. Lovino put his hand over the mouthpiece and yelled, “STOP IT, BIG BOY! STOP! BAD DOG!”

It seemed to have no effect on Big Boy. 

“You’ve named him Big Boy?” Gilbert scoffed, “ _Jeeeeesus_.” 

“Shut up, Gilbert. I’ve never owned a dog before, I don’t know what to do with him. Are you going to help me or not?”

“Okay, well, if I were you I’d leash him and drag him off the bed.” 

“Leash, leash…” Lovino wandered through the hallways, trying to remember where he’d put Big Boy’s new leash. He’d walked him this morning…

“Ooh, what’s Antonio going to think when he comes back after a week and sees the bed in tatters?” Gilbert’s tone was thick with implication. “Are you cheating on me, Lovino?” he cried, doing a dramatic rendition of Antonio’s Spanish accent. 

“Shut up, Gilbert. The second he sees Big Boy, he’ll understand.” Lovino grabbed the bright blue leash off the coat rack by the door. (He’d have to find a better place to put that.) The leash was thin, with white dog bone prints. He’d even got a matching collar, that Big Boy sported around his neck. He still needed a doggy tag. Lovino had stocked up on all the things Gilbert had advised him on. Food, shampoo, treats, vet’s phone number, and surprisingly expensive toys. 

When Lovino entered the bedroom, the dog had gone from ripping up the bed to chewing the headrest. His teeth had chipped into the wood, leaving nasty bite marks and splinters. “GET OFF THE BED, URSA MINOR!” was, for some reason, the first thing Lovino could yell when he clipped on the leash and tried to drag the dog off.

“Ursa Minor?” Gilbert asked through the phone. 

“Little bear.” The phone fell out of Lovino’s grasp with the hysterical, cackling noise of Gilbert laughing. The dog, meanwhile, didn’t budge an inch.

* * *

Lovino had to place an urgent order on Amazon for a new mattress (he’d paid extra for an express delivery), but while it came, both him and Big Boy were forced to sleep in the living room. Lovino on the couch, shifting uncomfortably, and Big Boy on the floor, where he’d get up and wander around and sniff things. The small nighttime noises of a dog not sleeping always put Lovino on edge. What if he was eating something dangerous? What if he was chewing wires? What he was peeing? Big Boy wasn’t house trained, because he’d lived on the streets and then in the pound and he’d had a very irregular life. In the last two days, Lovino had cleaned up more pee and poop than he’d ever thought possible. The house was smelling like a urinal masked with the scent of lemon floor cleaner, layered with the third smell of rose-scented air freshener. 

“Here, Big Boy,” Lovino called sleepily for the tenth time, his hand tapping the floor in a half-conscious daze. “C’mere…sit still…lemme sleep.”

The upshot of Big Boy’s nightly wanderings around the house was that Lovino got no rest himself, frequently having to get up and drag the dog out of the bathroom, or the kitchen. A part of him wanted to chain Big Boy to a table leg, but he couldn’t really bring himself to do it. Chaining a dog  _all night_?  He’d get so antsy. 

The next morning when Antonio FaceTimed him, Lovino was a sleepless mess, with red eyes and a short fuse. 

“Loovi, my love, good morning!” Antonio waved cheerfully to the camera. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Lovino grumbled, drinking his third coffee. “How’s work?”

Antonio sensed instantly that something was very wrong with Lovino’s mood. His voice faltered, and his eyes softened, but he didn’t immediately bring it up. “Lots of meetings.” Antonio moved the phone around the room, so Lovino could admire the fancy hotel linen and the large windows, from where sunlight streamed onto the floor. Antonio’s view was of Barcelona’s flawless horizon. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Antonio’s voice asked off-screen. “I wish you were here. We should plan a holiday together soon. Somewhere romantic.”

“Probably not,” Lovino said without thinking. His mind was on Big Boy, who needed a firm hand and some regularity. They couldn’t go galavanting off to another country yet; the poor dog would be traumatised. He’d made a mess of the bedroom again. The sheets were askew on the new mattress. While Lovino had been bathing, Big Boy had opened the wardrobe and pulled out the  _brand new shirt_ Lovino had bought in preparation for Antonio’s birthday, chewed its sleeve and abandoned it in search of more things to destroy. 

Antonio had become strangely quiet, which Lovino only noticed through his sleep-deprived haze because Antonio was  _never_  quiet. Lovino was about to ask, but Antonio beat him to it. 

“What’s wrong with the bed?”

“Hmm?” Lovino glanced behind him, where the sheets were crumpled and haphazard. Big Boy had rolled around in them. He seemed to enjoy the feel of the linen. 

“Oh yeah, tossing and turning. Had a nightmare.”

Green eyes stared at Lovino through a small, hand-held screen. Antonio blinked. His expression was so strange. His lips were set in this weird line that looked like a frown, but not  _quite_. “Whose shirt is that on the floor? It isn’t yours.”

Gilbert’s prediction was coming true, and it sent a bolt of ice right through Lovino’s heart. His eyes went too wide, his face too red. “It isn’t what you think,” Lovino cried quickly, which was the worst possible thing to say. Anything would have been better. 

“I thought you might say that,” Antonio replied coldly. The line went dead.

* * *

“You fucking homewrecker,” Lovino sobbed, pointing dramatically at the happy, panting face of Big Boy. He’d called and texted Antonio some sixteen times, but his boyfriend had switched his phone off. Lovino had messaged him on Facebook, sent him twelve emails, and called the hotel where he was staying. Antonio, it seemed, had left the room for the day. 

Big Boy didn’t appear to be even slightly perturbed by Lovino’s tears. He was lunching on one of Lovino’s best Italian leather shoes. 

* * *

Lovino, who did a lot of freelance work from home, had nothing to distract him from Antonio’s sudden, scary silence. He put all his efforts into Big Boy instead. Pulling up a website on adult dog training, he pointed at the laptop and said, “It states here that a hyperactive dog should be tired out with play. We’re going to play, damn you.” 

In his messenger bag, Lovino put a bowl and a bottle of water. He really had to get out of the house, and maybe figure out a way to get through to this dog.

They walked for almost an hour in the blaring heat of a summer afternoon. At first, Lovino marched on in silence, angry at the dog, angry at Antonio, angry at himself. But after he’d sweated out his initial rage, he felt hollow and tired. Then he started to talk.

“I mean, it’s not  _my_  fault. I’m trying to surprise him here. You know?” he looked pointedly at Big Boy. “I don’t even like dogs. I mean–I like you,” Lovino added quickly, as though Big Boy could understand him. “But other dogs…” he waved his hand around. “They’re furry and droolly and chew everything.” He fell silent again when he realised he was describing only Big Boy. “I’m sorry, I just don’t get you, okay? And I don’t get Antonio either. How could he assume I was  _cheating_  on him? Literally  _what_  about my behaviour would lead him to think that?”

Lovino pondered this for several minutes as they wandered across the street and to the dog park. It was empty now, save for one little girl and her whippet. He sat on a bench and gave Big Boy a bowl of water. As the dog took big lapping sips, Lovino’s heart sank a little. 

“Maybe I can be a little mean to him. I’m being just sarcastic…That’s just my thing…and maybe flirt with waitresses a lot. I know that bothers Antonio. But I thought he knew that was just fun, never  _serious_. We’ve talked about it…or…I guess _I’ve_ talked about it and Antonio’s just listened and said nothing. I don’t think Antonio expresses his opinions much. Do you?” He stared at Big Boy, who was sitting docile in the grass and panting. “You don’t even know him. And if I don’t figure this out, you probably never will.” 

Bending down, Lovino ran a hand behind Big Boy’s ear. The dog let out a loud, purring groan of pleasure. Lovino laughed. He didn’t know even dogs made noises like that. “Enjoying yourself?” Lovino increased the scratching, so Big Boy’s upper body was leaning sideways into his hand. “Good. I’m glad. You’re an asshole, Big Boy, but you’re just misunderstood, aren’t you?”

When Lovino stopped, Big Boy licked his fingers. 

“I’ve not been trying hard enough with you.” He stroked Big Boy’s head. “I’ll do better. With you and with Antonio.” 

* * *

As Lovino was unlocking the front door, his mobile phone rang, and he almost dropped the keys in his haste to answer it. “Hello? Antonio, thank god it’s you.”

Antonio’s voice sounded hoarse, like he’d been crying. “Hi Lovi. I was calling to apologise for my behaviour today. It was wrong of me to jump to such conclusions. I know you’d  _never_. I trust you. I love you. I just got irrationally and childishly upset. Can you forgive me?”

Lovino’s legs gave way. He sank to the ground, leaning against his front door, with Big Boy licking his other ear. “I’m sorry too. I think I behave in ways that would make you suspect me. Like when I flirt with waitresses.”

“I know that’s just for fun.”

“And I know you don’t like it. You’ve even told me so, but I still do it. I’m sorry.”

They were both silent. 

“The bed, the shirt–” Lovino continued breathlessly, “the shirt is mine, actually. I bought it to wear on your birthday. As for the bed–“

“You said you had a nightmare. Is it something you want to talk about?”

Antonio had given him the perfect excuse, but Lovino didn’t feel like lying to protect his surprise. Not when they’d just made up over what could have been a potentially catastrophic fight. “I didn’t have a nightmare. I–actually, it’s a surprise. I mean, I have a surprise for your birthday. You’ll see.” 

“A surprise?” Antonio asked slowly, perhaps wondering what sort of birthday surprise could entail a messy bed  _before_  the actual birthday, while they  _weren’t even together_. “Okay,” Antonio tittered nervously. “I can’t guess what it could be. But I’m eager to find out.” His voice was lighter now. He was smiling. 

“I love you, Antonio.”

“I love you too, Lovi. And I’m sorry. And I trust you.” 

“I’m sorry too.” 

When Lovino hung up, he dropped the phone to the ground, squealed in an undignified manner, and jumped at Big Boy, pulling him into a hug. The dog, too tired to do much else, only licked Lovino’s face. 

* * *

“And now, we add the icing,” Lovino explained to Big Boy, who sat at his heels and wagged his great floppy tail. Biting his lower lip, Lovino drew cream rosettes onto the edges of the chocolate cake, “then we refrigerate the cake–Big Boy, help me out and open the fridge.” 

Big Boy did no such thing, but he didn’t impede Lovino either when he walked across the kitchen to put the cake in the fridge. The dog had settled down a lot in the last couple of days, mostly because Lovino kept taking him on endless walks and training him with a firm, consistent hand. He’d even grasped the idea of being housebroken, and was no longer leaving puddles in the corners.

“Dog,” Lovino ordered blandly, just to make conversation. “Doggo. Doggert. Dogmister. Did you buy the flowers?” He gave Big Boy a pointed stare. “No, of course you didn’t, you stupid animal. I had to buy the flowers. You,” he waggled his eyebrows, “just ate a spider.” 

A huge bouquet of roses sat in a vase at the centre of the table. Big Boy wagged his tail happily, sensing Lovino’s cheerful mood.

“And for dinner, paella. You know your new friend Antonio loves paella? Yes-” Lovino poked Big Boy’s forehead. “He-”  _poke poke_  “-does.” 

When the doorbell rang, Big Boy jumped to his feet, pattering towards the source of the noise. Mercifully, he didn’t bark. He wasn’t a loud dog, Lovino had learnt. Just curious, excited, happy. Like Antonio, in so many ways. Lovino put his hand on his lips, as though Big Boy understood the concept of a ‘surprise’.

He opened the door, all ready to throw his arms around Antonio and kiss him to eternity.

He was cockblocked.

“LOVI!” Antonio squealed before a mass of white fur leapt on him with the power of a barrelling elephant and knocked Antonio to the ground. 

Lovino had to cover his mouth to muffle the worst of the laughter as Antonio cried out, startled, and then shrieked in laughter. Big Boy, having sniffed Antonio’s face, decided the second human was worth keeping around because he started frantically licking Antonio.

“A DOG!” Antonio cried stupidly, “YOU BOUGHT ME A DOG!”

“Happy birthday, Antonio.” Lovino got to his knees to help Antonio up. The Spaniard took his offered hand. His eyes were brimming with ridiculous happy tears, his face covered in slobber and fur and darkened cheeks. “Does the messy bed make sense now?”

Antonio said nothing, but yanked Lovino closer. The kiss would have been perfect if Antonio hadn’t laughed midway. Big Boy was licking his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe I came up with an Ursa Minor joke. I’m going to use that on my own dogs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment :)


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